


Lycanthropy as a Clumsy Metaphor

by nahco3



Series: wolf verse [2]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nahco3/pseuds/nahco3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what happens when crack fic meets reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lycanthropy as a Clumsy Metaphor

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to my lj.

Novak wins Wimbledon and Andy gets hospitalized with the flu. Novak visits him afterwards, and brings him a PowerBar and some Gatorade. Andy has a wicked sweet tooth, probably because he’s never had access to so much sugar in his life. He’s seems kind of intent on giving himself Type 2 Diabetes, which Novak can’t help but applaud. It’s good to have a goal.

The people at the hospital let Novak in without asking too many questions, which is good, since he doesn’t really have the patience to be Here and Queer and Demanding Equality. He really just wants to take a forty five hour nap.

Instead, he reads Andy Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkanban for like three hours, stopping every two pages to answer questions. He’d thought Harry would be a good way to help introduce Andy to pop culture; and it was, kind of. Except Andy got confused sometimes and thought things like floo powder and hippogriffs were real.

It was funny at first - Andy got really excited when he heard Wimbleton was in London, and told Novak he wanted to go to Diagon Alley. Novak had thought he was joking for a second, and he had started laughing a little hysterically. When he realized Andy had made an honest mistake, he laughed even harder, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Andy, predictably, had sulked and gone on a five hour run, then came back and asked Novak if he didn’t want a normal mate instead, and told Novak that Andy would be happy going back to his pack, painful and earnest.

Now, Novak just stops to explain things.

The nurses let Novak stay late, past visiting hours, in exchange for a few autographs, so Novak keeps reading and reading, his voice getting hoarse. Andy doesn’t like cliff hangers and dramatic tension, so he stays up until Novak finishes the book, his eyes determinedly open.

“That’s the end,” Novak says, finally, and leans over to kiss Andy on the forehead. “Get some sleep, we’re heading to America soon.”

“One of the nurses says they have a Hogwarts park there?” Andy asks. “I don’t really know what that is but she says I’ll like it.”

“We’ll go,” Novak promises, trying to figure out how to keep Andy from dying of twelve thousand different communicable diseases at once. Tennis tournaments are bad enough, a theme park with thousands of coughing children incubating fucking small pox and herpes and god knows what else is close to Novak’s worst nightmare. He’ll just cover everything in Purell and then burn their clothing afterwards. No big deal.

Novak reaches out to hold Andy’s hand, running his fingers across Andy’s knuckles. Andy sleeps easier when someone’s holding him, he’s tactile like that, but the hospital bed is in no way big enough for both of them. Andy hates his IV drip, too, so Novak’s gotten accustomed to keeping a hand on Andy, just to keep him from ripping it out and getting some sort of weird drug resistant infection. Andy starts to still, curling inward toward Novak, and Novak reaches his other hand up to rub his hair.

“Nole,” Andy asks, “I’m not like Lupin, am I?”

“What do you mean?” Novak asks, not sure what Andy’s really talking about. “Because I think if you turned into a wolf once a month I would notice.”

“No, I mean, because the wizards are all afraid of him. Is that why your pack don’t like me?”

Novak wonders how he’s going to cover lycanthropy as a clumsy metaphor for homosexuality and also explain that his parents will come around eventually - it’s just a lot for them to deal with, and they’re kind of old, and things were different when they grew up, faggots didn’t go and win tennis tournaments.

“No one’s afraid of you,” Novak says, then realizes that’s too true to be kind. “I mean. That’s not why. My family, this is just a lot for them, ok?” Novak’s tired and scared, he thinks absurdly I just want to go home. He wonders if this is how Andy feels all the time, which just makes him feel guilty, too. “It’ll. They’ll come around, trust me.”

“Of course I trust you,” Andy says, and Novak wants to snap that it’s just an expression, that Andy shouldn’t, that it isn’t safe to make someone your whole world like this because what if something happened to him, what if Novak’s plane crashed, what if there was a car accident. Or just an endless string of hospital visits until the end, not fiery and just slow enough to allow some false hope for extra pain, Novak thinks, and it makes him smile bitterly. Yeah, right, don’t let anyone in, way to follow that advice.

“Then go to sleep,” Novak says, “I’ll be here in the morning.”


End file.
